


Summer Special: Omigiri

by mika60



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Lots of riceballs, M/M, Onigiri Miya, and Osamu taking charge, and some pining, because he's not the idiot twin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25623046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mika60/pseuds/mika60
Summary: Miya Osamu always comes up with the perfect marketing plan for his shop, even if it involves the two biggest idiots he knows.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 90
Kudos: 879
Collections: Team MSBY Black Jackal Haikyuu, ~SakuAtsu~





	Summer Special: Omigiri

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I really did upload two SakuAtsu fics in a row (That are fairly different in tone, even). NO REGRETS.
> 
> Special thanks to [Min](https://twitter.com/min_mintobe) for half of the original concept for this fic, and for trusting me to elaborate upon it. Teamwork truly makes the dream work!

It is a humid, late Friday afternoon when Miya Osamu slips into the Black Jackals' locker room with the stealth of a fox. His watchface reads 4:53, approximately three minutes after Atsumu's usual departure time from the same space, and two minutes before Osamu's intended target would also leave - likely to join his twin outside for their usual, daily goodbyes.

As expected, the time window proves slim, but as with all his other ventures thus far in life, he is both prepared and determined. When the faint sound of a rustling duffle bag enters his eardrums, he can't help but let a smile escape onto his usually-stoic features.

Pacing confidently towards the back corner, Osamu approaches the source of the noise.

“Hello, Sakusa-san.”

The crouching figure, previously focused on packing away the remnants of his belongings, nearly jumps at the unexpected greeting. An ungraceful twist of long torso allows obsidian to meet umber, and despite half his features being concealed by a signature mask, Sakusa Kiyoomi's expression visibly softens with relief.

“Oh, it’s just you, Osamu-san.” The wing spiker's deep voice adopts an even more intense timbre due to the locker room's acoustics. “Are you…looking for your brother?”

Osamu smoothly maneuvers himself to sit upon the nearby bench, bringing himself nearly level with his former opponent before leaning forward, both elbows resting comfortably upon solid thighs.

“Nah. I came to ask ya something today, actually.” He injects an extra degree of seriousness into his tone. “I would like to…hire ya. For Onigiri Miya.”

Sakusa briefly glances down at his MSBY jacket before lifting his head, eyebrows now furrowed with disbelief.

“… _clearly_ , I have a full-time job.”

“No, not to work at the shop.” Osamu grins slightly. “I want to hire ya to promote our summer special campaign. Since it’s...inspired by ya.”

“Come again?” The confusion in Sakusa's voice seems to increase with each new spoken word.

“Well, ya see.” Osamu straightens his back again, perfectly aware that he will need the full spectrum of persuasion for this next part. “I know my brother calls ya… _Omi-Omi_.”

A dark aura suddenly envelopes their small corner, as if the wrath of a thousand unsent spirits had been unleashed at once.

“You don’t have a brother.” Eyes full of disdain, Sakusa punctuates his syllables with something akin to homicidal intent. “I already murdered him the first time he used that nickname.”

He nearly laughs at his twin's unfortunate, imagined fate, as he has shared such a wish far too often in his lifetime. Instead, Osamu takes full advantage of the circumstances to build the rapport he knows he will need plenty of.

“Ya were too late. He has already been dead to me for 20 years.” He’s fairly certain that this unique mutuality would only help his cause. “Anyway. As ya know, I own and run the shop.”

“Yes…?”

“Plums are in season right now. So I wanna release pickled plum as the summer special flavor.” Sensing an opening, Osamu releases the ultimate lure. “My brother tells me that is yer favorite? Yes?”

“Yes…?”

“Well. In yer honor, I would like to name this limited-time flavor ‘Omigiri.’”

“No.”

Pretending that the opportunity had not just been shot down completely, Osamu continues his pitch. “And I would like to hire ya to star in a small marketing campaign for it. Just a simple photoshoot where the images will run for a couple of months.”

“Absolutely not.” Having apparently heard enough, Sakusa throws his duffle over a shoulder and stands upright. Sneakered feet begin to take their first steps towards the door, fully intent on terminating the conversation at hand.

Undeterred, the young entrepreneur raises the volume of his voice for the climactic ending.

“I’ll pay ya a fair endorsement fee _and_ let ya have unlimited Omigiri every summer from now on.”

“N—wait, did you say… _unlimited_?” The full reversal of Sakusa's figure comes with nearly no warning, while his eyes are now widened to maximum size as they refocus on his potential benefactor. Just as Osamu had predicted - and can fully relate to himself - the wing spiker seems unable to refuse the desperate callings of his appetite.

“Yes. I brought you...samples.” Osamu opens his own bag to reveal a beautifully-designed box, its clear cover exhibiting the delicacies within. As with his usual offerings, the snow-white grains are shaped into perfect rounded triangles. Only this time, wine red ribbons traverse across all the tiny crevices in between, dousing a tarty sour flavor throughout and forming alluring roadmaps that seem to promise nothing short of paradise.

As if presented with Eden's apple, Sakusa's bony fingers visibly shake as they reach out towards temptation.

It takes only a single bite.

“…so when’s this photoshoot?”

==

Being the punctual athlete he is, a masked Sakusa shows up at his Saturday calltime of 10am right on the dot. Still, Osamu ends up patiently observing him scrutinize the cleanliness of the rented studio space until 10:15.

“I’ll be taking the photos myself today.” He announces as Sakusa finishes checking the restroom and greeting the makeup artist. “Yer outfit is over there on the mannequin form, whenever yar' ready to change.”

The spiker's eyes fall on the yukata on proud display by a standing mirror, and Osamu watches as Sakusa steps carefully towards it, as if drawn in by a thread. Despite the informal style, the black fabric still forms a regal silhouette, resembling a dark canvas with bamboo plant patterns in faded viridian painted throughout its left half. A moss-colored obi secures the two halves at waist-level, and one of Sakusa's hands extends for a cautious yet gentle touch, as if both suspicious and appreciative of the accessory.

Osamu has no plans to tell his one-off model that the yukata was stolen from Atsumu's closet.

"This is really...quite nice, Osamu-san. But..." A somewhat nervous voice finally sounds.

“Dun’ worry, I already know from ‘Tsumu about how ya clean everything, so I had it washed and disinfected three times." Osamu smoothly continues his process of persuasion from the previous day. "Also, everything in hair and makeup is brand-new, from the products to the brushes, so ya dun’ have to worry. Mirie-chan will only touch yer skin with the tools, and ya can style yer own hair if ya want.”

Rather than fielding further questions about the glam routine like Osamu anticipated, Sakusa actually lowers his gaze before mumbling his next words.

“Miya--I mean, your brother sure told you a lot about me.”

_Bingo_. A resounding applause begins in Osamu's head. He does not overlook this chance.

“Well, ‘Tsumu talks about ya a lot.” He shrugs in pretend indifference and begins to fiddle with the tripod-elevated camera next to him. From the corner of his eye, he sees Sakusa's head dart up in surprise.

“He does?”

“Yah.”

The spiker says nothing after that. Instead, he threads fingers into the obi to loosen its hold, before carefully removing the yukata in its entirety, grabbing the geta sandals on the ground, and hauling everything into the restroom.

==

Of course, the yukata ends up a tad shorter for Sakusa's tall frame, exposing more muscled calves than necessary as he sits upon a tall stool placed ahead of the seamless backdrop. But Osamu pays no mind, as he will not need to capture anything below waist-level.

What _does_ end up perfect is practically everything else. Though Mirie worked some magic with light powder and the faintest bit of gloss, the natural features of a now-maskless Sakusa are already far beyond Osamu's expectations. The dark curls tamed by his own hands are now shaped with much more precision, falling in sleek waves down the left side of a defined face. All the rough edges visible on the volleyball courts remain untouched, but within this particular outfit and context, there now exists a subtle tenderness that his opponents both past and present may never bear witness to. 

For the first time in years, Osamu feels like he truly understands his twin a little bit more.

"Thanks, Mirie-chan." He acknowledges in the direction of the short figure currently shuffling makeup palettes into a bag.

The young woman flashes back a smile. "I didn't even need to do much, but always happy to help! Hit me up again any time."

"Thank you." Sakusa voices his own gratitude as Mirie passes by him on the way to the exit. She responds with a wink, before detouring over to Osamu’s side.

"He's quite the looker, huh?" The whisper is as hushed as possible, ensuring that no one out of their immediate vicinity would catch any words. “I’ll remember to leave the door unlocked, just as you asked.”

Osamu gives a thumbs up, eliciting a chuckle from his departing partner-in-crime.

Once left alone, he returns to adjusting the lens of the camera, ensuring that each attempt to find focus is meticulous and measured. Soon enough, Osamu feels the only other set of eyes in the room trained on him. 

"Are ya alright, Sakusa-san?" He asks without stopping his movements or returning the look.

"Y...yes." Rather than just turning his head, Sakusa rotates his entire body on the stool, clearly embarrassed by being caught. "I just...you really resemble your brother a lot. It confuses me a little."

“Oh?” _Bingo number two_. “Does it make ya...nervous? Excited?”

“What?” A hint of pink becomes visible beneath the light layer of powder. “No, of...of course not. It’s just funny...to imagine him out of all people, being my photographer.”

“Mmm. I see.”

Finally satisfied with the current settings, Osamu stands up straight and begins to pace back and forth in the studio, no longer giving away any upcoming developments in this ongoing project.

After 50-some seconds, Sakusa finally speaks up.

“Are you still...waiting for something?”

“Yes.” Osamu glances at his watch. _11:29_ . “Our prop for the day, which should be arriving right about... _now_.”

As if on command, a series of off-rhythm knocks sounds against the door as soon as he finishes the sentence.

“Come in. It’s unlocked.” Osamu yells, and officially opens Pandora’s box.

A blond storm blows in then, wrecking everything in its path with a cheerful countenance and an even more cheerful voice.

“Osamuuuuu,” The eternal bane of Osamu’s existence rushes towards him, both arms spread wide in their hunt for any affection at all. “Can’t believe ya _finally_ invited me to a taste test! I was so jealous of Sho-kun, Meian-san...every other person on tha’ team ya asked before yer own bro, haha! Savin’ the best for last, right? I even skipped breakfast toda---”

Atsumu freezes mid-sentence as he finally drinks in the entire room. His arms remain in an open position, though they have not quite reached where Osamu stands. Soon, anxious eyes begin to survey every corner, eventually landing on the well-dressed figure on the stool, who looks just as shell-shocked.

“Miya…”

“Omi…”

Before the setter can finish the moniker he himself created, one of his hands finally drops to place a vice grip upon his stoic twin’s wrist. The subsequent drag of them both towards the closest door - the walk-in closet’s - is one Osamu does not resist.

Torrents of thunder and lightning begin as soon as they gain privacy within the somewhat cramped space.

“What are ya _doin’_??” Even in the form of hisses, Atsumu’s voice is still somehow deafening. “What’s happenin’ here? Why is he wearing my--”

“Obviously, I’m helpin’.” Osamu deadpans. "And DON'T tell him the yukata is yours, for God’s sake."

“Helpin’ with WHAT??” Frantic arms wave up and down wildly in their owner’s confusion, nearly knocking down random items hung upon the hangers.

“Well, _you_ actually brought us to the perfect place to continue my plan.” Before the whole closet collapses on them, Osamu quickly grabs for the large item stuffed in a compartment right behind his distressed twin. He had intended to reveal this particular element a tad later, but his current predicament has turned out to be a most welcomed catalyst.

Soon enough, he is shoving said item forcefully into Atsumu’s chest. “Change into this. _Now_.”

Wrestling back some control of his limbs, Atsumu can do little else other than unravel his unwanted gift. Before long, the material balloons into a giant, triangular original form, its vast surface printed with countless realistic-looking grains of rice and trails of pickled plum juice.

“WHAT THE HELL IS THIS??” Within a few seconds, Atsumu’s distress level seems to have increased hundredfold.

“It’s how ya will finally move past the pining stage, dearest brother.” Osamu quickly flashes a mischievous grin before erasing all positive emotions from his face. “Aren't ya used to dressing up like this already?* Maybe after today, ya will stop coming into the shop or draggin’ me to bars just to MOPE NON-STOP ABOUT YOUR UNREQUITED LOVE.”

“SHHHHH!!” His twin throws a nervous glance towards the miniscule crack between the closet door and its frame. The pointed stare that follows is consumed with defiance. “I never _moped_.”

“So whaddya call sobbin’ and mumblin’ ‘Omi-Omi’ over and over after your tenth beer?”

“That’s MOURNIN’, not mopin’!”

Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head.

“Shuddup and put on the damn costume.”

==

It's never Osamu's first choice to be stuck in a secluded space with a rowdy person, but when said rowdy person is desperately trying to figure out where his arms can possibly extend outside of a massive onigiri costume - simply put, they cannot - he doesn't mind being squeezed into the corner in the process. After all, his phone is quite good at capturing action-packed video footage, even in places with poor lighting.

The struggle finally ends a few minutes later, with Atsumu gasping for breath as he sits on the ground in complete surrender. His long denim-clad legs extend beyond the bottom of the plump shape that now form his silhouette, and his reddened face finds haphazard sanctuary through another intentional opening. But everything else that makes up the volleyball star is nowhere to be found, as they are all fully concealed beneath fabric and plumes of fluffy cotton.

“I...I’m NOT goin' out there like this.” The defeated one insists between raspy inhales.

Osamu does not stop recording. "I'll be askin' him to hug a giant onigiri for this picture."

A resounding groan. A desolate cry to the wild as the hapless fox attempts to stand up.

" _DAMN YOU, ‘SAMU_!"

Acting as if he has worn earplugs the whole time, Osamu closes his camera app, pockets the phone, and proceeds to open the closet door. The movement startles Sakusa, who is somehow still upon the stool but has clearly been contemplating some sort of escape plan. His usually enigmatic eyes look just as nervous as Atsumu's were just moments ago, while his palms are gripping his knees so hard that the yukata fabric is becoming dangerously wrinkled. And though lightly shimmering lips open at first with the intention to speak, they close again as Sakusa resorts to craning his head instead, gaping at whatever is behind Osamu with curiosity.

"Sorry for the wait." Osamu points back to the closet doorway, voice unwavering. "Wardrobe malfunction."

A loud, bizarre noise reverberates throughout the studio then, followed immediately by the familiar " _Dammit!_ " that has haunted Osamu's nightmares. When he turns to see what calamity Atsumu has caused this time, he is confronted by a true disaster of a scene: his brother, flopped on the ground again in his onigiri garb, apparently dragged down by the forces of gravity. A few seconds of crime scene analysis provides a likely hypothesis: the slightly tougher corners of the costume had become stuck in the doorframe when its wearer attempted to exit. And since no arms were available for any sort of balance as the mishap unfolded, there was nowhere else to go but down.

"He...help..." The victim mutters, his voice reminiscent of one who has been both physically and psychologically crushed.

An even less recognizable sound enters Osamu's eardrums, shocking both him and his strained twin into immediate attention. This sound is full of hesitant but positive emotion, partially muffled by previously tense hands. Creased eyes remain visible above the stacked fingers, while shaking shoulders and gasps of breath consummate the all-too-rare sight.

Sakusa Kiyoomi is _laughing_.

Rather than reacting to the special occasion himself, Osamu watches Atsumu's expression shift from shock, to wonder, to affection, and finally delight within the span of a few seconds -- before he, too, resorts to chuckling at his own absurdity. For a brief moment, it's as if the two of them were no longer the formidable players recognized only for their command of a sport, but a pair of simple people in a room, utterly amused by each other's madness.

He steps back and allows them a full minute of shared joy, before he crouches down to hiss in his twin's ear.

“Well? Are ya happy now?”

Atsumu squeezes out a few syllables in between short cackles that refuse to cease. “Shit. Um. Maybe?”

“Now get up an’ go stand next to yer Omi-Omi.”

==

_“Atsumu-san and Omi-san? Mmmmm...they probably argue the most out of everyone on the team? But it’s never, like, the angry kind of arguing, if that makes any sense. More like when my mom and dad tease each other over stupid things, I think? Omi-san definitely talks to your brother the most, though, which might be why they argue so much…oh! I think he also only high-fives your brother? Whenever Bokuto-san or I try, he just shies away and says sorry. It’s okay, though. We already knew from high school that Omi-san needs time to warm up to people. He smiles a tiny bit these days when your brother tells dumb jokes, but that’s pretty much it for now. By the way, all the onigiri are soooo good! Thanks for inviting me over to taste test them!!”_

==

  
  
Ultimately, any elevated moods post-laughter proves short-lived, and the next 10 minutes consist of textbook examples of how _not_ to behave in front of Miya Osamu's camera. It starts with his subjects' absolute refusal to interact, both still reeling from their respective, far-too-recent displays of vulnerability, now stacked heavily on top of whatever tension had already existed before. Absolute silence wounds tightly around their shared space as they shuffle positions awkwardly, never communicating how one should complement the other, much less meeting eyes. Onigiri-Atsumu's limited mobility only makes the whole scene even more a comedy of errors, as his every attempt towards obeying Osamu's directions is met by either 1) An obstruction that his costume knocks into, or 2) Sakusa's muted displeasure at their gradually decreasing proximity.

When even their best efforts end up constructing unappetizing portraits of one stiff onigiri standing an entire meter apart from a grumbling matsuri attendee, Osamu does his best to not set the SD card on fire. Instead, he steps out from behind the tripod, resolutely enters the unholy circle of ineptitude, and grabs his brother by two plump corner seams.

"Kneel down." He drags Atsumu unapologetically to the spot right in front of Sakusa's legs and shoves him downward, leveling the top corner of the costume with the spiker's chest. "Righ' here."

Atsumu can do little but permit the manipulation, though he still takes great care to leave as much space in between him and his teammate as possible. Sakusa visibly recoils when the costume nearly comes into contact with his exposed calf, but Osamu shoots him a stern glare, which freezes him back in place.

  
  
_Here comes da hardest part..._ The thought passes through Osamu's head as he steps back, clearing his throat before delivering the fateful words.

“Sakusa-san, Bend down and put yer arms around ‘Tsumu.” He gestures with a steely finger, not leaving room for any disagreement. “Ya gotta _show_ the camera how much ya love hi--this Omigiri.” 

  
Slip-up notwithstanding, the two predictable reactions trigger simultaneously.

" _Wha_ \---”

“I am _not_ touching your brother.” Sakusa's voice both interrupts and resounds over Atsumu's. “I never signed up for that.”

“He’s wearing a costume that has been cleaned multiple times.” Osamu returns to the tripod, his mind running through all the possible responses he had prepared for this very moment. “Ya won’t even need gloves.”

“Even so---” 

“Yer just huggin’ various forms of cotton in the end. Like a nice pillow. Ya got pillows, right?"

Though Atsumu does not see it from his position beneath, Osamu watches Sakusa direct his panicked gaze to the top of the blond's head, clearly analyzing all the potential scenarios and discovering less and less room for further excuses. The roll of his Adam's apple gives away some actual consideration of obedience, but before Osamu starts further persuasion, his twin actually speaks up first.

“I won’t move or do anythin’ to make ya uncomfortable, Omi-kun.” Atsumu looks straight ahead while remaining immobile, as if trying to sustain this rocky wall of trust with maximum structural integrity. “I promise. Like I always promise ya all the best tosses.”

Something clicks in Sakusa then, and his stiff vertebrae softens into a gentle bend. His arms, previously glued to his side, begin a gradual, roundabout journey into the air. 

Osamu can only smile at the rather satisfying twist he himself never saw coming. _The level of confidence between a setter and his spiker is truly unshakeable - on or off the court._

Sakusa's two sleeved elbows soon find purchase against the costume's slanted edges, and his fingers eventually link together just beneath Atsumu's chin, placing both wrists just a breath away from Atsumu's jawline. The angle brings his entire head much closer as well, to the point where he's practically resting his own chin over Atsumu's left ear. Though the one sensitive to touch is Sakusa, Osamu sees his twin's breaths quicken much more in speed, while his reddening cheeks begin to blend into the pickled plum hues surrounding them.

When Sakusa looks straight ahead inquisitively, as if seeking approval, Osamu rushes to capture the once-in-a-lifetime moment.

“Nice. Hold that.” _Snap._

The LCD screen darkens momentarily before unveiling its latest acquisition from reality. To his slight disappointment, the resulting photo possesses the right pose but elicits the wrong emotions. While Atsumu looks as mentally destroyed as he had wished for, Sakusa looks far more petrified than necessary. In truth, Osamu had not expected even anything close to this as the final result, but now that they've all reached this stage, he only feels inclined to take things as far as possible.

“That was very good. Now just soften yer expression more, Sakusa-san, like yar’ actually kinda...protective or defensive of him?”

Like a practiced model - or perhaps simply too numb to do much else - the sole part of Sakusa that shifts is his expression, which goes quickly from petrified to displeased.

"How the hell do I do that when it's not true?"

Due to their current embrace, the question is spoken within dangerous proximity to Atsumu's ear. And the setter, who likely heard none of the actual words, looks like he is about to faint.

Osamu responds quickly, wanting to fully avoid the possibility of a comatose sibling going under his care. "Maybe imagine that a spike is about to smack 'Tsumu in the face, and ya gotta stop that from happenin'."

Sakusa’s frown deepens. "I would just try to save the ball _after_ he gets hit..."

"Then imagine that someone's about to take yer favorite onigiri away from ya. 'Tsumu is literally that onigiri today, so protect him with everything you have."

The spiker falls silent this time, as if seriously contemplating the described scenario. Before long, his hooded eyelids begin to drift downward even further, until only dark lashes are visible against pale skin. At the same time, his arms also migrate inward, tightening their hold around the costume's pliable form until the limbs are practically wrapped around Atsumu's neck and shoulders. Osamu's jaw nearly drops at the ease at which Sakusa adopts the new pose; the display of raw confidence that he would never let go of what's currently within his grasp. It resembles an homage to an action he had always meant to perform, a confession that had never been voiced. 

_Well, shit_. _Bingo indeed._

"Close yer eyes, 'Tsumu." _Don't look, because you will actually die._ "Now lift yer head slightly and turn it just a tiny bit ta' the left. And try to control yer breathin' a little."

With a hard swallow, Atsumu obliges each step of the way, though the last step certainly proves the hardest. By the end, his forehead is just millimeters apart from Sakusa's slightly parted lips.

_Snap._

This second try is, to say the least, phenomenal. Contrary to woeful reality, the genuine emotions on display within the seized moment are crystal clear. Were it not for Atsumu's ridiculous costume and intense blush, it could've easily passed for a portrait of two lovers, entangled in their own complicated histories as they dream of more beautiful days.

“Amazin'. We got it.”

The interlaced figures immediately break apart, both turning to face opposite directions of the room as they attempt to recover from whatever effects the moment of intimacy held over them. Osamu feels almost sympathetic. _Almost_.

“See? That wasn’t so difficult. Yar both naturals, and ya make a great team.”

==

_“Yah, my cousin Mirie is a pretty great makeup artist. I’ll give you her number before I leave. Your brother is playing very well, by the way! Especially with Kiyoomi-kun. They make quite an excellent pair - probably one of the best duos I’ve ever teamed up with, in fact. Strange, though...they’re so flawless on the court, but off?_ Always _this weird tension - especially after any game where they complete a lot of really killer plays together. But anyway, Atsumu-kun used to be as wild as Koutarou-kun, but I think Kiyoomi-kun has centered him a lot since he joined the team. It makes my captain job a bit easier, that’s for sure. Oh, you need me to pick my favorite? I would say this one -- yes, the one stuffed with the lobster. I don’t know where you source your seafood these days, but it’s almost as good as the rice.”_

==

“Now, I just need one more pic--”

“No, wait.” Sakusa slips - practically stumbles - off the stool and raises a firm palm. “I need a break.”

Osamu notices Atsumu peering from the corner of his eye.

“That’s fine, of course. Everythin’ a’right?”

Sakusa pauses briefly before moving in the direction of the closet. When he passes Osamu, he motions for him to follow.

The twins exchange a glance then, and Osamu puts on a sly expression that leads Atsumu to bite his bottom lip. As he turns to retrace the steps of the geta sandals, he knows without looking that said bite is getting harder with each stride he takes.

The dim closet light is already turned on when Osamu enters, and Sakusa wastes no time to pose his concerns.

“Osamu-san.” The deep timbre of his voice is almost accusatory. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, but your brother actually looked...appetizing in that costume just now, and I am officially disturbed by my own thoughts.”

The level of candor, combined with Sakusa’s self-agitation, nearly causes Osamu to burst out in laughter. He had imagined a scolding at the very least, but instead, he has been asked to play counselor to yet another existential crisis. Only this time, it’s not over beers or tears.

“Good. Please continue to think of him as the most delicious thing in the world.” He prescribes the best remedy he can conjure up. “We need that level of chemistry for this to work.”

The aghast expression that overwhelms Sakusa’s face is so vivid that Osamu is sure it has been permanently seared into his brain. When he recognizes the tinge of relief that accompanies it, however, he wishes that he could photograph it for Atsumu to also memorize.

“...you actually _want_ me to think of him as...delicious?”

Osamu gives no response other than the shrewd, eyebrows-both-raised look that his twin is far more infamous for. _Ya already have for a long time, haven’t ya?_

The implication needs no verbal rhetoric, and it renders Sakusa speechless, cheeks now burning a thousand shades of scarlet. Feeling suddenly sympathetic once more, Osamu decides to spare him further dilemmas with a redirect.

“Yar’ so close, Sakusa-san. _SO_ close.” The double meaning behind his encouragement is something he knows the other needs to hear. “Just think ‘bout all the unlimited Omigiri ya will get to eat this summer once we finish this. Maybe, ya can even share some of yer prizes with my idiot brother - I’m happy to allow that.”

In that moment, Sakusa’s gaze becomes painfully hopeful.

==

_“Kiyoomi-kun’s face gets so damn red whenever Tsum-Tsum stands less than a meter from him these days! I notice it all the time at practice now and it’s hilariously cute! Young love is so great, ain’t it?”_

_“You’re only a year older than us, Bokuto-san.”_

_“But they’re like awkward high schoolers! Remember when I told you about the time Kiyoomi-kun lost his lint roller? Tsum-Tsum flipped the entire gym and locker room upside down before he found it. The next day, Kiyoomi-kun bought Tsum-Tsum a thank-you gift, and he wrapped it suuuuper carefully with the prettiest paper, almost like Valentine’s chocolate. Hahaha! Shoyo and I bugged Tsum-Tsum all day to open it, and when he finally did it was...a new lint roller! Hilarious! Lint roller couple!”_

_“From all I’ve heard from Bokuto-san, they just sound like two idiots who keep dancing around each other, not yet a couple...”_

_“Huhhh??? You don’t think they’re dating already? I’m preeeeetty positive...”_

_“...then again, those two are far from being the worst idiots on that team.”_

_“Akaashi~~!!”_

_“I’m giving the yakiniku-stuffed onigiri the highest rating.”_

_“Me too! Me too!”_

==  
  


As he ushers Sakusa back out, Osamu winks once at his apprehensive twin before taking a slight detour towards one of the standing lights. At its legs rests the cooler box he had placed there earlier in the morning - a Chekhov’s gun now finally ready to be fired. Once he removes its contents, he looks up to see his two unwitting pawns in a drastically different condition than before. While one remains on the ground and the other still atop the stool, they’re no longer facing opposite directions or even sitting too far apart. Sakusa’s palms are bunching up the fabric around his knees again, but he is regarding Atsumu in an almost forlorn silence. Meanwhile, Atsumu looks back with a flood of concern overwhelming both his eyes, like a lost puppy - or rather, onigiri - seeking sanctuary.

_So, so close._

“Okay. Just one more shot left. And the way y’both are sittin’ right now is kinda...a nice pose for it.” Osamu wanders over to present his tray of pickled plum onigiri, freshly prepared and packaged right before he left for the studio. “Please take one, Sakusa-san, and feed it to ‘Tsumu.”

“Wha--” Atsumu exclaims for the tenth time today.

Osamu throws him a look of utter irritation. “Just make it look delicious, bro.”

Rather than doubting the latest request, Sakusa has already wrapped fingers carefully around the onigiri closest to him, though still taking care to not actually touch too much of the surface grains. With the other hand cupped beneath for safety, he adjusts his overall posture before giving Atsumu a questioning look, seeking permission before going further.

Despite having voiced his objection just seconds earlier, Atsumu nods almost immediately, and Osamu finds himself panicked for once as he rushes back to the camera. To his relief, Sakusa at least possessed the logic to wait for his go-ahead as well, and once Osamu locks down the ideal framing and lighting, he gives an enthusiastic thumbs up.

Everything seems to happen in slow-motion then, from the delicate way Sakusa extends his offering to the graduate manner with which Atsumu leans forward and widens his mouth. When cold rice finally finds union with warm lips, the two sides joined together in some sort of sinful matrimony, Sakusa releases an audible gasp. And when teeth begin to gently carve craters all over the wine red road maps, the hands keeping the small, edible planet afloat tremble at every new bite. Occasionally, a grain becomes stuck at the corners of Atsumu’s mouth, but he makes no effort to lick them away.

_Snap. Snap. Snap._

Somewhere in the middle of this gluttonous trance, Osamu thinks that the scene of Onigiri-Atsumu eating onigiri looks a bit cannibalistic. But as funny as the thought is, it is quickly overshadowed by the shameless exhibitionism in front of his eyes. As the photos testify to, the latest gaze between his two subjects have not broken since the feast began. And from his perspective, Osamu could almost swear that Atsumu’s teeth and tongue didn’t always fully avoid Sakusa’s fingers. His neurons go into overdrive as he tries to reconcile how this unlikely pair could’ve possibly suppressed themselves for this long. After all, if all it took was some rice and plums to maximize the tension between them, he is beyond curious of what the future holds.

Apparently, that future is now. Because Sakusa suddenly pulls back, retrieving the half-eaten onigiri in the middle of another bite.

“Omi-kun, what are ya…” Atsumu swallows, seemingly breaking from his reverie.

Without saying a word, Sakusa draws the snack to his own lips and takes a greedy bite, replacing some of its existing, smaller craters with a giant caldera.

_Maybe, ya can even share some of yer prizes with my idiot brother._

For the first time in his life, Osamu is pretty sure he has witnessed his twin’s brain implode.

==

_“Um, so has Atsumu-kun not confessed yet? Komori-kun doesn’t think so yet, but he asked me to double check with you. You know in the match against us last week, Atsumu-kun must’ve set to Sakusa-kun...70% of the time? My instincts were pretty sure it’s only because he wanted to get an actual hug out of the guy, which is probably easier if they score for MSBY together. Sakusa-kun came pretty close one time, too, but he got so red and backed out in the last second. LITERALLY backed out, like already halfway into your brother’s arms, before he escaped to the opposite corner of the court for no reason. But I can tell, Osamu - I can_ tell _they both wanted that hug. Hm, actually, was that the same night as Atsumu-kun’s moping beer binge that you told me about? Poor guy, maybe it’ll finally happen for him the next game. Komori-kun and I gotta root for them both. But I have to say, how do you get together with someone who probably won’t even share food with you? Hm._

_And seriously, Osamu, this is killing the rest of the league. The two of them are monsters at their prime and pretty much no one can stop that one-two attack right now, especially when it happens for practically the entire match. Look at my damn fingers, it’s been six days and they’re still red...and I wrapped THREE layers of tape before the game. So help us out a little here - maybe if they finally resolve that tension off the court, they won’t be so wound up and powerful while playing? You must have a plan, right? Never mind, what am I saying - you would rather Atsumu-kun suffer for eternity, I’m sure. Oh, sorry, about the onigiri...all of these are just okay to me - I think you really need more sweet options...ever think about adding jelly fruit sticks to them?”_

==

_Believe it or not, Rin, I’ve had a plan for a long, long time now._

He sets the camera to video mode and presses the record button.

“O..Omi-kun...” Atsumu’s next words are barely coherent. “I…”

With two more bites, Sakusa finishes the onigiri shared between them, any previous reservations about cleanliness apparently abandoned. A few seconds after the final swallow, he releases a deep sigh.

“I...I might have feelings for you, Miya.”

“Wha...wha’ are ya feelin’?” As expected, the setter’s brain has not yet returned to full function.

“I think...maybe I had...felt something for you back in high school.” The belated confession is hesitant, yet truthful. “And these days, those feelings seem...much stronger.”

“Is it da feelin’ that ya wanna...kill me? Kiyo..omi?” On the flip side, Atsumu is still stammering absolute nonsense. “Oh. They sound like the same word.”

_God help us all_. At this point, Osamu wants to dig a giant hole on the ground and bury them both in it for eternity.

Despite being the punchline of the terrible joke, Sakusa’s expression begins to take the form of absolute glee. It’s not the first time today that laughter escapes from his throat, but now, there are no more inhibitions - no hands covering his mouth, no scramble to control the degree of emotion, no fear towards exposing his truest feelings.

Below him, Atsumu looks absolutely mystified.

“Omi...Kiyoomi.” He shuffles even closer, almost enough to rest his head upon Sakusa’s lap. “I wanna make ya laugh like this more. Can I? Be the person to make ya happy? Besides volleyball, I honestly haven’ been able to think of much else for months.”

Alongside his final bouts of laughter, Sakusa stretches out both arms, first grasping the seams of the costume before moving his hands inward little by little. It takes a few minutes of careful practice and experimental touches for him to reach the next stage, where both palms gently cup a defined jawline. Atsumu stays absolutely still throughout, waiting patiently for whatever contact he is blessed enough to receive. 

“Miya...no, _Atsumu_.” Sakusa breathes out the name like he’s unlocking a treasure. “I’ve wanted that for months. Probably even longer.”

An affectionate smile blooms - absolutely _blooms_ \- on Atsumu’s face. But even in a state of unconditional joy, he cannot overcome his buffoon-like nature.

“Are ya...really my Omigiri now?”

“Hell no, stupid.” Sakusa leans closer and scolds. “Look at yourself...it’s obviously the other way around.”

What follows is a montage-like sequence of events: an unspoken question, a confident nod, an earnest display of their mutual devotion - all undoubtedly seared into their memories for years to come.

  
And Osamu marvels.

  
_There._ There _it is._

After _all_ the mopin-- _mourning_ he has had to endure from his dunce of a sibling. After _all_ the complex scheduling of confirming-Sakusa’s-feelings-sessions disguised as MSBY-onigiri-taste-tests. After _all_ the effort invested into this small studio production. After _all_ the intricate scheming to get these two into the same room and finally on the same page--

_Bingo bingo bingo. Mission Accomplished._

Osamu stops the recording to take one final photograph, makes a mental note of exactly how to use it, and leaves the lovebirds alone in their pickled plum-flavored paradise.

==

Just two weeks pass before all of Onigiri Miya’s signage is refreshed anew, each with a slightly more summery logo and a breathtaking portrait of one yukata-wearing Sakusa Kiyoomi. It would’ve had the potential of becoming an iconic, celebrated photograph, if not for the fact that he is gently embracing a giant onigiri mascot, with one Miya Atsumu’s furiously blushing face - in the exact same shade as an actual pickled plum - sticking out from the costume’s dead center.

But since Miya Osamu’s current _second_ goal in life - the first having been achieved two weeks ago - is to sell as many onigiri as possible, he cares _very_ little for the art museum prospects of his own work. Instead, he grins at the inky text next to the stunning-yet-hilarious visuals with unprecedented pride.

**One Pickled Plum ‘Omigiri’ earns you one ‘Omigiri Ticket.’ Collect 10 to exchange for one free Omigiri on your next visit!**

****SPECIAL REWARD (Redeemable with 100 Omigiri Tickets!)****

**Exclusive behind-the-scenes photo of the real ‘Omigiri’ DEVOURING his ‘Miya’!!**

“ _Perfection_.” He whispers to no one but himself, the maniacal tyrant of a new business empire, gradually ascending towards his throne.

==

The first Special Reward redemption belongs to Atsumu, who, of course, is forced to buy the 100 Omigiri himself over the course of a week.

_As if_ Osamu was going to give his newly-in-love brother anything else for free.

Each of his twin’s Omigiri-purchasing journey to the shop involves two large bags: one carrying Atsumu’s paid batch and another with the free batch requested by his boyfriend. Osamu does not ask how the two of them manage to eat these unholy amounts within a few days, but he assumes that Sakusa carries most of the weight.

Each trip is also filled with grumbles of “Ya won’t even give _me_ that picture?!” or “I can’t believe photographers own final copyright” or “I’m suin' for invasion of privacy.” But all complaints cease the day 100 tickets are exchanged and Atsumu’s eyes finally befall the captured moment, printed upon glossy material: a perfectly-framed first kiss frozen in time, grains of rice dotted around the pair of connected lips and all.

And as Osamu watches Atsumu shamelessly display the fondest expression he has ever seen on a human being, for the briefest of moments, he wonders if his brother really will end up with the happier life.

That doubt is swiftly forgotten by the end of summer, when 1,453 more Omigiri Special Rewards are redeemed by a massive influx of customers.

==

[Fin]

**Author's Note:**

> *I added this sentence on August 3rd after we all found out that Atsumu was Jackasuke in the 12th Light Novel. Pffft.
> 
> HUGE thanks to Dazzle for [this stunning artwork of Sakusa in (Atsumu's) Yukata](https://twitter.com/DazzleTwig/status/1289615278767091713)! I am so moved <3 <3
> 
>  **Edit (September 30th, 2020):** Thank you to Bei for [this super cute art of Onigiri Atsumu](https://twitter.com/simpbei/status/1311478620632707074)!! <3
> 
>  **Edit (February 28th, 2021):** [Beautiful sketch from Tiffy](https://twitter.com/tiffyoomi/status/1365915574925074437)!!!! Thank you!!!
> 
> Yes yes, I know the “kill me”-”Kiyoomi” joke only works in English. But just humor me a little there. I had to do it.
> 
> The “Omigiri” idea was my own, though I might not be the first in fandom to call Kiyoomi that (But possibly the first to have Atsumu call him that? ;)). Please feel free to use the nickname in your own SakuAtsu fandom works - and let me know if you do because I love it that much!
> 
> The scene where Atsumu gets stuck in the doorway while wearing the onigiri costume was inspired by [this genius fanart](https://twitter.com/llamaprd/status/1288236663710167040). Thanks also to Min for sharing this masterpiece!
> 
> And thank YOU all for reading ;) If you feel inclined, please leave a comment and/or come scream about the ship [with me over Twitter](http://twitter.com/_mika60_)! If you enjoyed the read, [here is a fic graphic that you can interact with](https://twitter.com/_mika60_/status/1299528390828003333).


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